


The Ghosts That We Knew

by falafelfiction



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Gen, Post-Series, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:25:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falafelfiction/pseuds/falafelfiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marie remembers the final days before her husband’s death whilst paying a visit to Jesse Pinkman who is awaiting trial. This is a post series fic with flashbacks to the 'Rabid Dog' and 'To’hajiilee' time period. This is also a sequel fic to my Jesse centric story <i> Yonder Stands Your Orphan </i> but it can be read separately without prior knowledge of my other fanon narrative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All my thanks to Lenina20 and Heyjupiter for their invaluable advice and support.
> 
> Also if any readers are wondering, Agent Tim Roberts who appears in the fic is an established canon character. Here is a link to his Breaking Bad wiki entry if you're not sure of who he is: www.breakingbad.wikia.com/wiki/Tim_Roberts . In the show Tim is portrayed as one of the most decent APD cops and a personal friend of the Schraders.

_Then._

Marie crept into the room, clutching the handcuffs ready.

The Pinkman person lay sprawling outside the covers of her guest bed with one of his arms dangling off the mattress. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Marie saw that she could easily snap a cuff onto his wrist and then secure it to the bed frame. Marie really didn’t like the idea of touching the Pinkman kid though. She could hardly imagine what kinds of bacteria and drug particles might be clinging to his unsanitary skin. Marie could smell the gasoline on his jeans. She was fiercely tempted to just shove the little punk off the bed so that she could strip away the sheets and then rush them to the laundry room.

“Baby...” a soft murmur behind her, “...what are you doing?”

Marie looked up to see Hank blinking at her in the doorway.  

“Hank, you’re awake,” she whispered back. “I…I was just...”

Marie raised the handcuffs with a shrug. They weren’t proper police cuffs. These were the ones Marie kept in the back of her lingerie drawer. The cuffs they had used for role playing games in the bedroom...something they hadn’t done in a long time.

“...I was just taking precautions,” she explained.

Hank gestured rather frantically for Marie to step away from the drowsing criminal and return with him to the hallway. Marie followed the silent instruction, dragging her heels. Hank then closed the door behind her and snatched the cuffs out of her hands.    

“Marie, I told you...” Hank scolded, guiding her back to the living room. “You don’t have to worry about Pinkman being in the house. I’ll be on watch all night.”

“Hank, you fell asleep in your chair!” she hissed.

“I was just resting my eyes! I was thinking...”

“You were _snoring_ ,” Marie corrected. “Hank, you’re exhausted. We’ve both barely slept all week. We can’t go on like this. At some point we’ll just hit a wall.”

Hank sighed. “See Marie...this is why I booked you into a hotel.”

“Well it’s a good thing I stayed and stood guard while you were falling asleep on the job!” Marie pointed out, feeling proud of her efforts thus far. “Do you want that drug crazed pyromaniac wandering around our house while you’re napping?”

“Marie, I’m on the case here,” Hank insisted. “I’ve already locked up all the matches, the sharp objects and the pharmaceuticals just to be on the safe side.”

“That’s not the only thing I’m concerned about, Hank. What if he sneaks away in the night? We can’t let our best chance of getting Walt just slip through our fingers,” Marie pinched the bridge of her nose. “We have to call Steve,” she said for the tenth time that week. “Just tell him he needs to come over here and give us some back up. He’d do that for you, even at this late hour. Hank, we really need to let someone else in on this...”

“Baby, I need something solid first. I’m close, okay? I can feel it.”

She tensed, straining with impatience. “But what if he...”

“Marie, we can’t chain the kid to the bed, okay? End of story.”

“Well I just don’t see what the big deal is!” said Marie, throwing up her hands. “You’re a DEA agent. He’s a criminal. You say that you caught him trying to burn my sister’s house down, for Christ’s sake. So now he...he’s in your custody, right?” 

Hank winced. “Technically no. Marie, I explained this. If Pinkman were in custody then I’d have to take him down town and put him in the system. I’d have to lose all control over the evidence that he can give me. So technically he’s not arrested. Technically he’s our guest...a guest who may _voluntarily_ offer up some evidence that could lead to the legitimate arrest of the criminal scumbag we’re really interested in.” Hank took a calming breath. “That’s how we have to play this, okay? If we keep Pinkman handcuffed in our home it becomes a little more like false imprisonment. You know…like _kidnapping_.”

Marie rolled her eyes. Hank had already given her a long lecture on kidnapping after she had tried to get little Holly away from close proximity to her monster of a father. Before this situation with Walt, Marie hadn’t realized there could be so many situations where what the law called kidnapping was actually a perfectly reasonable course of action.  

“So what’s your solution if this Pinkman tries to escape?”

Hank shrugged. “If he wakes up in the night and tries anything stupid then I’ll handle it. I mean...we already know which one of us wins in a fight, right?”

“Hank, that’s not funny,” she chided, cringing at the memory. “I mean you…you _did_ put him in the hospital, didn’t you? Doesn’t he still hate you for that?”

“I expect he does,” said Hank. “But I think he hates Walt more.”

Marie nodded. She was glad to that hear that Pinkman had the right attitude at least. If they all took the perspective of _‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend’_ then maybe they could come to an accord. But it didn’t stop her worrying that this precious potential ally might run away from them before they could get him to talk. If they couldn’t count on _Skyler_ to come forward and testify, how could they possibly rely on the likes of Pinkman?  

“You might be able to take him in a fight, Hank, but you wouldn’t be able to chase him with your leg.” She stood up. “I’m going to put my sneakers on.”

Hank blinked at her in confusion as she marched over to the front door and picked up the lavender tennis shoes that she used for her morning jogs. She sat back down in the living room, kicked off her heels and was soon tying up the laces.

“Marie, baby...” Hank shook his head, “...what are you...?”

“I’m a good sprinter,” said Marie. “I won several medals for my high school track team. So if Pinkman makes a run for it, I’ll catch him and I’ll tackle him before he reaches the door. And I’ll put him in an arm lock. You can arrest me for it later, okay?”

Marie wasn’t kidding, but it warmed her heart when Hank cracked a smile. _I can still make him smile,_ she thought _._ That was one thing they hadn’t lost yet.

“Okay then,” said Hank. “Sounds like a plan. And sorry to say but it’s a plan you won’t need to put into action. The kid’s coming down off a meth binge, Marie. With the sleeping pills I gave him I doubt he’ll surface before morning. I can’t question him till he’s sobered up. And even if he does wake up in the night…I don’t think he’ll run.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked Marie.

He shrugged again. “Because I know _breaking point_ when I see it...”

Marie swallowed. Hank had told her about the state he had found Pinkman in. That he had been raving something about Walt having poisoned a little boy. Even now with all the other horrors Marie knew about – the witnesses killed in prison, the bomb in the nursing home – the thought of Walt harming a child still shook her to her core and made her more desperate to get her sister, her niece and nephew away from that psychopath. They had to tell Steve Gomez soon. The DEA needed to be here protecting them all again.  

“So once we get a confession out of Pinkman we’ll go to the police,” Marie assured herself. “How much do you think he even knows, Hank? Hank...?”

Hank’s eyelids were drooping and Marie feared he might be about fall asleep again. But then her husband gave her a sharp look, full of wakefulness.

“I think he knows everything,” Hank said.

Her skin tingled. This was what they needed.

“Walt might’ve thought he was smart pulling that frame job,” Hank continued, “but that tape has actually helped me to figure things out...given me a timeline. We know that Walt got the idea to make meth from that ride along after his birthday. That was the same time he got his cancer diagnosis. The same time Skyler found out he was buying pot...”

“...from Jesse Pinkman!” Marie interrupted.

She had always said that Walt’s association with this drug dealer person was something the family needed to investigate further but it’s not like anyone would listen.

“He wasn’t buying weed,” said Hank. “Walt needed an in. So he finds some stoner ex-student who knows the business and he uses him to gain contacts with the bigger players. That’s why Pinkman’s car was right there at Tuco’s house. Walt had connections with the Salamancas and then with Fring. It was Walt who got Pinkman to drop those assault charges. And Agent Munn over at APD tells me that the last time they pulled Pinkman in for questioning it was concerning this Brock kid who was poisoned. That was the exact same day the nursing home blew up. It’s all connected somehow, Marie, and this kid’s been in it from the start. At first I took him for just one of Walt’s low level street dealers like Mayhew, but...there’s something more between them. Something personal…” Hank trailed off. He was looking a bit queasy. “I don’t know what Walt did to him exactly, but Pinkman’s not that same cocky little twerp who was bullshitting me about his car being stolen over a year ago…”

Marie thoughts drifted to Skyler again, the sister she barely recognized now she was caught in Walt’s thrall. Clearly this was something Walt _did_ to people. He had tried to do it to Hank too with that repulsive tape. He was trying to drive them all crazy, trying to push them to the point where they’d all want to throw gasoline around and strike matches.

They were still sitting in silence when the phone rang. Not Hank’s cell or Marie’s but that ridiculous _Hello Kitty_ phone they had taken out of Pinkman’s pocket.  Hank put it on speaker phone and they listened to the message as it recorded. Walt’s message.

 _“Jesse…”_ Walt began _, “…I’m going to be at Civic Plaza tomorrow at noon. I hope you’ll give me the chance to explain myself...talk through everything once and for all.”_

Hank’s eyes flicked to Marie, shining with triumph.

“Sting…” he whispered to her like it was a sweet nothing.

“You have to call Steve!” Marie insisted.

“Shush!” Hank pressed a finger to lips. Walt hadn’t finished. 

 _“I’ll be alone and unarmed,”_ the message went on. _“So if you want to come and shoot me in the head that’s up to you. Either way…I’m in your hands.”_

The message bleeped to a close. Marie stared at the phone, blinking. She was remembering how Walt had been unwilling to entertain Marie’s suggestion that his suicide might be the best solution to all of their problems. The man was dying anyway and Marie knew the final stages of terminal cancer weren’t the most pleasant thing to live through, so why couldn’t Walt just speed up the process? But no, Walt wasn’t prepared to do that. Not for his family’s sake at least. But for this druggie degenerate? For this strung out little _hood_? For him it seemed that Walt was prepared to put his own neck on the chopping block.

Marie shook her head, appalled.

“Who the _hell_ is this Pinkman person?”       

 

~*~

 

_Now._

Marie stared through the one way mirror into the empty visiting room. A set of handcuffs were attached to a slim metal bar that ran lengthways across the table’s surface. The meeting place was prepared just as she had requested; a private and secure space which she could feel safe in. Yet Marie still flinched when agent Tim Roberts stepped into the observation room behind her.

“They’re sending Pinkman over now,” said Tim. “I’ve been allowed to extend the visit time to half an hour. Will you be comfortable with that duration?”

Marie hesitated, feeling like she was about to be placed in a pit with a rabid wolf.

“Is he dangerous?” she asked. “I hear he...choked a man with a chain?”

Tim nodded. “That one has already been ruled as a justifiable homicide. The kid’s been to hell and back. He’s...he’s a very damaged young man. But he’ll probably do his best to hide it from you. He’s exhibited good behaviour in these last three months he’s been with us. The only time he really fought us was when our doctors said he needed to be on medication.” He touched her shoulder. “Just so you know…I’ll be out here the entire time, keeping an eye on you.” Tim gave her a sympathetic if patronizing smile. “Just watching, not listening. I know this is likely to be a sensitive discussion. He’s the only surviving witness to your husband’s murder after all. I hope that talking to him can give you closure.”

“Yes _closure_ ,” Marie affirmed, nodding. “Dave thinks that’s important.”

Tim nodded too. “Anything we can do to support you, Mrs Schrader.”

Marie hung her head mournfully to disguise that this meeting had little to do with closure. Marie knew Hank was dead and he was never coming back so what more _closure_ did she need? She had read the autopsy reports and learned that her late husband had been shot by two bullets, one in the thigh and one in the head, most likely in that order. She had even been to view the remains that had been unearthed from the desert, something Skyler had found disturbing until Marie indigently reminded her that she had worked as an X-Ray specialist for the last twelve years now. People in Marie’s profession are more acutely aware of the reality that all human beings are just walking skeletons wrapped up in skin. The reality of Hank’s bones was easier for Marie to deal with than the long sickening uncertainty of never knowing what had happened to her husband and the stupid delusional hope that he might somehow come back to her so long as no body was found. But finding those two corpses in the sand had stopped that cruel hope before it could drive Marie crazy.

Marie knew when she married a DEA agent his work came with all these risks of a violent death. But even after the shooting by those insane Mexican hitmen Marie knew that she could never talk Hank into quitting. The man was a natural born cowboy. Nothing had ever killed Hank like being bedridden and unable to do his job. Marie had always known that if it came down to it, Hank would give his life for the force and he wouldn’t regret it. She would be left alone to do all the regretting for both of them. Marie knew she couldn’t save Hank’s life, but now that he was gone she could at least protect his reputation. And that was why she had come here. That was why she needed to talk to Jesse Pinkman.       

Jesse entered the room through the far door, flanked by a burly guard who towered over him. The young man looked different from the last time Marie had seen him. He was clean shaven which made his facial scarring even more prominent. One scar in particular ran from his eye down his cheek like a permanent tear trail. Jesse’s hair was longer too, tawny tufts of hair that stuck out in all directions making him look like a little boy who had just rolled out of bed. Marie was sure that Jesse or his lawyers had chosen his look on purpose. They were determined to make him seem like the misled child in all this.

Jesse didn’t wait for his hulking guard to restrain him, but marched straight up to the table and snapped the handcuff onto his own wrist. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he was strapping on a watch. The guard caught up to Jesse and gave him a stern look for rushing ahead, but Jesse waggled his cuffed hand to show there was no harm done. So the guard just sighed and let it go. Jesse slumped in the chair, yawning and rubbing his neck with his free hand, already seeming bored before the visit had begun.  

Tim squeezed Marie’s shoulder and motioned her to enter the room. She stepped through the door and quickly addressed the guard before he could leave.   

“Excuse me, I need to ask is...is that secure?” She pointed to the cuff on Jesse’s wrist. “I just wanted to check that correct procedure is being followed.”

“It’s fine,” the guard assured her. “He just prefers to do it himself.”

“Oh, he _prefers_ ,” Marie replied with haughty nod. “I see.”

“I’ll be just outside,” the guard added and he seemed to be saying it to Jesse more so than to her. Marie narrowed her eyes. She had the distinct impression this guard _liked_ Jesse which she considered not only unorthodox, but a mite unprofessional.

Marie could already tell her assumptions had been correct. Jesse Pinkman _was_ getting special treatment in prison. She was sure that these little exceptions to regulations weren’t the end of it. She had the feeling that they were all handling Jesse with kid gloves and all because some big time director wanted to make a documentary about him. Then there were biographies they wanted to write about him, the websites that had sprung up about him and the endless ‘ _Villain or Victim?’_ debates she read in the press. There were already talks of making a movie about all the horrible things that Walt had done and apparently every young actor in Hollywood wanted to play the Pinkman role. _A movie_. It was absurd.          

Still...Marie sometimes wondered who might play her in the movie. Winona Ryder would be the obvious choice, of course. She had Marie’s elfin features and milky complexion and she was still looking remarkably good for her age. Playing a sympathetic women struggling with kleptomania would be a bold choice for the actress given her own highly publicized struggles with the condition. Marie had told Dave that if the film went ahead then she would be writing to its director to inform them of her casting preferences.    

“Uh…Agent Roberts said you’ve been asking to see me?”  

Marie snapped out of her reverie and refocused on Jesse, who was sitting chained to the table, waiting for her to speak. She took the seat opposite him and reminded herself to remain calm and civil. She had waited months for this visit. She couldn’t waste it. One little royal wave to his guard and Jesse could probably terminate the whole meeting.

“Yes,” Marie began. “Yes, I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to inform you that I’ve been asked to testify at your trial. I want you to know that I intend to tell the jury the unadulterated truth. I intend to say that while you were a guest in my home you seemed very remorseful and you were very helpful to my husband’s investigation. I’ll confirm that you made a full confession and that you were willing to turn state’s evidence at great risk to your own safety. That might help towards a more lenient sentence, wouldn’t you say?”

“I guess,” said Jesse, frowning. He seemed to be waiting for the catch.

“On a personal note,” Marie continued. “I also wanted to thank you for turning yourself in when you did. It took the heat off my sister when she needed it the most. You have no idea what Skyler and poor Flynn were put through in those months after Walt disappeared. I mean Walt was the one who forced her into it. He could’ve spared her all these interrogations and accusations if he’d only been prepared to surrender as you have done. But that man never cared about anyone but himself. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that.”   

Jesse tensed at the mention of Walt and he gave her a non-committal nod. Marie thought that he might have warmed up to her after these pleasantries that she had planned to begin with. But his sunken posture in the chair was still moody and mistrustful.

“So how have you been?” Marie asked, still struggling to break the ice. “Tim says that you’re currently in protective custody. Is that like…solitary confinement?”

“Nah...” Jesse drawled. “It means they’ve got me in this smaller separate unit with the other freaks and pussies who they think are likely to get their asses reamed in gen pop.”

“Oh, I see,” Marie nodded, not understanding, nor wanting to understand half of what Jesse had just said. “So is it nicer…in this protective unit?”

Jesse snorted a laugh. “That depends on your idea of _nice_. We got a library and a chapel and not a whole lot else to do. But it could be worse. I get three meals a day and I get a toilet that flushes. Other than that, it’s prison and it sucks. But that’s the point, right?”

“I’m just pleased to hear the police are so concerned for your safety,” Marie concluded. “You know...because I keep hearing about how victimized and abused you were.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, sinking even lower into his chair.

“Look…is this about the photograph?” he asked, cutting to the chase.   

Marie bristled at the mention of it. That damned photograph. The photo of Jesse Pinkman’s battered face, his left eye swollen up like a purple balloon, as he lay in the hospital bed that Hank had put him in. The photo that had been leaked anonymously to the newspapers about a month ago and had been haunting Marie ever since with all the slurs that it had placed on her late husband’s name. The DEA had been scandalized by the photo too since it revealed they had covered up this act of police brutality by their own ASAC. So now there were these wild speculations that poor little Jesse Pinkman might have come forward so much sooner if it hadn’t been for Agent Schrader destroying all his trust in the authorities.

Marie took a breath and struggled to retain her composure.

“I don’t know _who_ out of your cowardly little circle of friends released that photo to the tabloids. I suppose that your lawyers thought it would be a good publicity stunt to gain you sympathy. To make you look like the victim of the situation.”

Jesse frowned. “Yo, I _was_ the victim of that situation.”

“Only _technically_ ,” Marie hissed back, her anger mounting. “Let me tell you now…when I am next in a position to speak to the media I won’t be covering up any of the traumatizing lies that were told to my husband, convincing him that _his wife_ was dying in hospital…lies that I believe drove my husband into a state of temporary insanity. Not that the DEA or anyone else ever _cared_ about the pressures they put him under…”

Marie forced herself to stop. She had no intention of getting tearful during this meeting. Jesse seemed to sense she was close to crying and he softened his tone. 

“Look lady, I…I didn’t tell anyone to leak that photo. I didn’t even know it still existed. The dude who took it was my old lawyer. I haven’t seen him in almost a year.”

“Is this that Goodman character?” Marie scoffed. “Oh Skyler told me about him. All I can say is you must’ve paid him well if he’s still pulling strings for you.”

Jesse shook his head. “He’s got no reason to be helping me out. We sure didn’t part on the best of terms. In fact, I’m pretty much the whole reason he had to leave his business and skip town. So like I said…he’s got no reason to be doing me any favours.”

“Well obviously he is!” she snapped, still bitterly frustrated.

This was really too much. In Marie’s opinion Jesse had already been ridiculously pampered with good legal representation. There had only been one public defender appointed for Skyler and he had been useless in presenting compelling arguments for her defence. But then Skyler was just the abused wife with Stockholm Syndrome who didn’t know anything. Jesse was the star witness to all Heisenberg’s criminal exploits. Jesse was the one that they wanted to make movies about. So it seemed these lawyers were lining up to defend Jesse free of charge just to grab their share of the fame and glory, including this fugitive TV lawyer who had allegedly been profiting for their drug ring all along. Even the _corrupt_ lawyer was helping him out. But Jesse simply seemed confused by the actions of this shady benefactor.  

“At first I thought...” Jesse began, “...maybe Goodman was trying to say sorry for some of the stuff that he did. But honestly, I think that he just misses being a lawyer. Like, his two most famous clients are national news stories and he’s got to keep his mouth shut and hide in the shadows. Maybe he leaked that photo because he just couldn’t stand not being involved.”

“Just don’t act like you’re sorry about it,” Marie sneered. “It doesn’t end with the photo you know...now there is all this suspicion about how Hank might have coerced you into making that confession and that you’re a victim of police misconduct because Hank didn’t go through the proper channels. It’s absurd! My husband was protecting you!”

“Oh yeah, right...” said Jesse with a sardonic snarl to his lips. “Your husband protected me real good…right up to the point where I got kidnapped by Nazis.”

Marie felt herself go cold. “You…you can’t blame him for that.”

Jesse stared into her eyes and then he softened again.

“I don’t...” he admitted. “I don’t blame him. We both put ourselves in that situation because it was our one chance to catch that asshole. This photo stuff…it’s not about me blaming other people for what I did, okay? It’s just the lawyers doing their thing, trying to get me a better plea bargain. Like, they’ll promise not to raise some big civil rights suit against the DEA if the prosecutor agrees to drop some of the charges against me...” 

“Drop some of the charges?!” Marie spluttered. “So does that mean that you’re just going to get away with some of those crimes that you committed?”

“Lady... _chill_. Even after they’re done cutting deals…there’s still going to be a lot of charges left over.” He smiled grimly. “I cooked a lot of meth. Like quantity-wise, I might’ve cooked more meth than any other single person in all America.”

There was a note of awe in Jesse’s voice when he said this as though he wasn’t sure if he was shocked at himself or whether this was the one great achievement of his life.  

Marie tried a different approach. “Look, I understand that these things are good for your defence, Jesse. But I thought we were on the same team here. We both know who the real villain is, don’t we? Hank always said that Walt did a number on you. Walt got you in over your head, right? Can’t you get the lawyers to say it was all Walt’s doing?”

Jesse laughed raggedly. “Yeah, they’re saying that too. They need more than one argument for like, mitigating circumstances and diminished responsibility in my case. So yeah, they want me to say everything we did was Walt’s idea. They want me to say I was manipulated and blackmailed into doing his evil bidding. They want me boohooing on the stand about how I always looked up to Mr White as my teacher and how I put all my trust in the wrong guy.” Jesse sighed. “Basically I have to pass myself off some poor brainwashed idiot.”

“Well...isn’t that what you were?” asked Marie.

Jesse gave her a stung look and sank still lower in his chair.

“I don’t mean to be insulting,” she clarified. “He made an idiot out of me too.”

He swallowed and nodded. “I know that he was just using me. Just working me over...it took me a long time to see it, but I know now. I just don’t want people seeing me as this stupid sidekick who could never think for himself. It’s not true. I mean...I had ideas.” 

Jesse was practically pouting over this. Marie was losing patience with the brat. It seemed that if he wasn’t avoiding responsibility then he was sulking over not getting enough credit.

“Well then,” she said. “If you’re so proud of your nasty little criminal ventures why don’t you just own up to them and quit blaming other people for all your misfortunes? Because I know for a fact that nobody forced you into the drug world. I’ve read those interviews with your parents and I know you came from a good home and had every opportunity to lead a better life. Do you ever think about your parents, Jesse? What you’ve put them through?”   

He met her stare again. “They’ve been sure to remind me every time they visit, yeah.”

“So they _are_ visiting you then. Well, I would say that’s very decent of them.”

Jesse rubbed his temple. “Well, it's in their interests, you know. They’re making a ton of money from all those press opportunities. Mom says they’ll be able to afford to send Jake to space academy this summer.”

This caught Marie by surprise. “Your parents are making money off you?”

Jesse winced, but shrugged it off. “It’s not like that. They offered to put some of it in a trust for me for when I get out. But I told them I don’t think there’s any point. They might as well just spend it or like...use it for charity or whatever. I don’t care. I mean, I _want_ my kid brother to go to space camp, you know? They actually let Jake come with them last time they visited. Man, I hardly recognized him. The kid’s growing like a weed. He’s taller than me now. My little brother is taller than me! Like...how the hell did that happen?”   

For the first time in their meeting, Jesse’s face lit up with a genuine smile. Marie could see that whatever grievances lay between Jesse and his parents, it hadn’t diminished his affection for his younger sibling. But still, there was something tragic about Jesse’s smile. Like he had given up on himself and could only place his hopes in other people that he cared about. 

“You...you don’t think you’ll ever get out?” Marie asked.  

“I don’t know,” said Jesse, his face falling again, “Maybe when I’m an old man or something, if I live that long. I know that the lawyers are trying for leniency, less years, nicer prisons, the chance of parole and all that. But I got to accept whatever verdict they give me. And I know that it could be bad...real bad. Like, I could end up in one of those super max places where you do all your time alone in a cell and you only go out in the yard for around an hour every day and you never talk to anyone. There’s people who are sane that go into max and come out crazy. What chance would I have? It’s not like I think I deserve any slack. It’s just that there’s not much more that I can physically take, you know?”

Marie opened her mouth and closed it again. She knew about the conditions Jesse had been kept in at that meth lab compound where Walt had finally been killed. She had always been horrified by these drug gangs who keep actual human slaves. Marie had no real desire to see Jesse suffer further. She didn’t hate him. She hated her dead brother-in-law so intensely she had no hatred left for anyone else. It drove her crazy that Walt would never set foot in a jail cell while this kid might be spending the rest of his life behind bars. But she still had to object to Jesse’s line of defence. She still had to do right by Hank...she had to...

She sighed and wondered if Hank himself might tell her to just let it go.

“Hank didn’t lie about what he did to you, you know,” said Marie, wanting Jesse to know this if he didn’t already. “He was going to admit to the assault, lose his career over it. I was telling him to make up a story and say that you attacked him first. But he wouldn’t do it. That was how committed my husband was to being a good cop. But now nobody will know that. They will only focus on his mistakes...not on all the things he did right.”

Marie’s voice was cracking in spite of herself. Jesse finally sat upright in his chair, limply raising his free hand as if he wanted to reach out and console her.

“Look listen...” said Jesse. “I won’t be letting the lawyers say anything about your husband that isn’t true. But I can’t really stop them using the stuff that _is_ true. It’s kind of out of my hands at this stage. But for what it’s worth...I probably wouldn’t have gone to the cops any sooner, even if your husband hadn’t beaten me to a bloody pulp.” 

“Why not?” asked Marie. “For your own sake, I mean. You could have made a deal. You could have walked.”

“I know...” said Jesse, his face hardening as if all those chances for witness protection still gave him headaches. “I guess for a long time there I was just... _loyal_.”

Marie nodded and she didn’t push this line of questioning any further. She understood by Jesse’s solemn tone that when he said loyal, he meant stupid.

 

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Then._

 

Marie spent most of the next day inventing errands to run.

In all honesty there was nothing she could do that could possibly distract her from the hope that this would be the day they got Walt. Marie picked up groceries that they didn’t need. She stopped by work even though she had taken unpaid leave since the beginning of the week. Since she had been let in on their terrible family secret. God, it was still only a matter of days ago that she and Hank had first found out. How could that be? She was already struggling to remember how it had felt not to know.   

After it was past noon, the waiting became even more unbearable. She knew the sting should have taken place in the plaza by now. Marie was just wandering around town, clinging to her cell, desperate for Hank to call. She ended up at the Cottonwood Mall, window shopping at first and then venturing into the stores. She came close to walking out of Gordon’s jewelers with the sterling silver charm bracelet she had slipped into her purse, but she stopped before reaching the door and forced herself to return it to the shelf. It would have relieved so much of her tension to just take that damn trinket. But Marie couldn’t risk getting caught. Hank had enough to worry about without her being arrested and making a bigger mess of things.

Marie eventually returned to their empty home and sat glued to the local news channel, hoping that she would see the Walter White conviction story break through at any moment. It was evening when she finally heard the door opening. Marie sprang to her feet, clasping her hands in a silent prayer. Hank, Steve and the Pinkman kid trudged into the living room. Marie could already tell by their grim expressions this wasn’t to be _the day_.

“Well?” Marie prompted them. “How’s it all going?” 

Hank straightened and cleared his throat. “We’ve got a solid lead. There’s a rental place in town that we’re going to investigate. It won’t be opening up until 8am tomorrow morning, so in the meantime we’re just…sitting tight, biding our time.”

Marie forced a smile. _Okay, more waiting_. Hank always said that sitting tight was a big part of his job. Marie never knew how he could stand it, especially when he was patiently waiting for evidence on a criminal he already knew was guilty as hell. Why wasn’t this over? Why hadn’t Walt spilled his guts in the plaza like he said he would?

“So did something go wrong with the sting?” Marie pestered.

Hank and Steve shot stern looks at Pinkman who eyeballed them back for a moment before turning away and shuffling over to stare at their bookshelves some more.

“I’ll explain later,” said Hank, facing Marie again. “I’m going to walk Gomie out. Keep an eye on Jesse here for me. Don’t let him near any phones, okay?” 

Hank and Steve headed back towards the front door before Marie had the chance to raise any objections about being left alone with the insane arsonist drug dealer who would apparently be spending another night in their home. It looked like Hank had deemed this kid to not be a threat to them and it seemed like they were supposed to call him Jesse now. She struggled to adjust to this new perspective. Jesse had picked up a hardback Stephen King novel and was reading it with a fierce concentration. He really didn’t strike Marie as the literary type. He just looked like he wanted to crawl between the pages and hide.

Marie found herself remembering a night from childhood when she’d been standing on her mattress and screaming because a spider had crawled beneath her bed. Skyler had come into her room and told Marie that the poor creature must be far more scared of her than she was of it. That had calmed Marie down considerably, knowing that her little unwanted visitor was more fearful of her, the towering host who could squish that spider if it came too close. Marie took a step nearer to the bookshelves and lifted the phone from the coffee table, clamping it under her elbow. Jesse raised his nervous eyes from his book.   

“Have you eaten?” Marie asked, because checking on Jesse’s sustenance was about the only way she could think of starting a conversation with him.

“Um, yeah,” said Jesse. “We stopped for Cheetos.”

Marie rolled her eyes. Hank’s idea of nutrition, of course.

“Well, that’s not proper food,” she said and Jesse looked a little chastened over his poor dietary habits. Marie sighed and gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen.

“Sit,” she told him once they reached the counter. “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

Jesse gave her another one of those lingering lost puppy looks then; the sort of look which suggested that Marie offering to make him a sandwich was the kindest thing that anyone had ever done for him. Marie really wished he wouldn’t do that. 

“So what went wrong with the sting?” Marie pried, trying to keep her tone breezy as she rummaged the fridge for spread and fillings. “It sounded like such a good plan, a good simple way to resolve things. Did Walt not show up or something?”

Jesse shifted in his seat and shrugged his shoulders, avoiding her scrutiny.

“No offence, lady, but your husband is trying to get me killed.”

“Don’t be absurd!” Marie snapped back at him. “Hank would never deliberately endanger a police informant. It wouldn’t be right. And besides, he needs you to testify against Walt in court. We need a witness to tell a jury the truth about what Walt did. You’ll probably get police protection and immunity out of it, you know. That’s a good deal. I still don’t know why Skyler won’t take that deal. She...she could end up going to jail with him...”

He frowned. “You mean Mrs White? His wife?”

“My sister, yes,” said Marie. “I’m scared to think what will happen to her when all this is exposed. I...I don’t know how she can still be loyal to him after all he’s done.”

Jesse hesitated for a moment then he leaned forward to speak.

“I don’t think she’s loyal so much,” said Jesse, “I think maybe she’s waiting for the cancer to come back. Like...she’s waiting for him to croak so it can all be over.”

Marie blinked in surprise. “You know Skyler? Did she say that to you?”

“Not in words, not to me...but I was at their house for dinner this one time...you know, when she had sent their kids away? It just seemed like she hated his guts.”

Marie’s heart leapt at this news. “And have you told Hank that?”

It was just occurring to Marie that not only could they use this kid for Walt’s conviction but he might also be a good witness for Skyler’s defence. Jesse nodded and Marie guessed that Hank was already thinking the same thing. She concentrated on the bread she was buttering and decided that this really was going to be the nicest sandwich that Jesse Pinkman had ever eaten. She opened up the Swiss cheese and Black Forest ham that she’d bought from Whole Foods Market to emphasize how valuable he had become to them in this case.    

“Our main concern is getting my sister and her children away from that evil deranged man,” Marie continued. “I won’t be able to sleep so long as they are under the same roof as him. Not that I approve of you trying to burn their house down, of course. What a stupid impulsive reckless thing to do. Your clothes still smell of gas, you know. I had to change your bedding because it’s on the sheets too. If Hank hadn’t been there you probably would’ve set yourself on fire. But I…I understand you were upset.” Marie winced, wondering if she should bring it up. “Hank said he poisoned someone you care about…a little boy.”

She watched as Jesse’s eyes flared and his fingers twitched. He swallowed his rage and managed to stiffly nod his head. Marie nodded back and she could see that Jesse really did care about this child. She tried to imagine how she would feel if someone had deliberately poisoned Flynn or Holly. Then she was left wondering why Jesse hadn’t waited until Walt was _in_ the house before he’d attempted to burn it to the ground.

“What kind of poison did he use?” Marie asked, suddenly curious.

“Ricin,” Jesse muttered. “Well, no…he tricked me into thinking that it was the ricin. It turned out to be this flower. Something the doctors called _Lily of the Valley_.”

Marie nodded again. She remembered Skyler had one of those plants in the back yard. Her sister loved any woodland plant with simple white flowers, but with those toxic berries Marie had been nagging her to get rid of it before Holly started walking. When it disappeared from their poolside some months back Marie had assumed that her sister had taken her advice. But no...it looked like it had been Walt destroying further evidence.

“I remember ricin from my research...” said Marie. “It was definitely in my top five options for good poisons. If ricin is something Walt has used himself then I’d be tempted to move it up the list. I like the idea of giving him a taste of his own medicine.”

Marie fell silent, realizing what she had just said out loud. Jesse’s eyes widened and he glanced down the hall. Hank and Steve were still stood in the doorway, immersed in their usual cowboy talk. Jesse slowly turned back to face Marie.   

“Research?” he whispered, like they were entering a new conspiracy together.  “What the hell, Mrs Schrader. You…you’re planning to poison him?”

Marie smiled, amused by the fearful awe in Jesse’s eyes.

“No, I’m not going to poison him,” she said serenely. “I won’t have to. Hank is going to catch him tomorrow. I know it. But while we’re waiting, I think that it’s best to formulate some back up plans, don’t you? Even if they’re plans I won’t have to use.”    

Marie pushed the plate she’d prepared towards her guest.

“Eat your sandwich,” she told him.

 

~*~

 

 _Now_.

  

Jesse was fumbling for something in his pocket with his free hand.

Before Marie could ask him what he was doing she heard the light clatter of this _something_ falling under the table after slipping through his fingers. Jesse muttered the word ‘bitch’ because it seemed that whatever he wanted was now out of his reach. Since Marie wasn’t handcuffed to the tabletop, she crouched down to retrieve what Jesse had dropped, wondering what the hell it could be. She hadn’t been allowed to bring _anything_ into the meeting room. She had been subjected to a metal detector and then ordered to surrender her purse at the reception desk along with the amethyst butterfly broach that she had stolen last week which the guard had told her was large enough to be weaponized.   

Marie picked up the little item that Jesse had dropped. It was an inhaler. She climbed back into her chair and passed it to Jesse without remark. He gave her a grateful nod before placing it in his mouth and sucking its medicine deep into his lungs. 

“So are we done here?” Jesse asked as he released his breath.

“Done?” Marie glanced at her watch. “Well, I still have another fifteen minutes. And I’ll have you know that I’ve been waiting weeks for this visit. It’s been like trying to get an audience with the queen. I had to get Ramey to pull some strings and bump me up the list. So if you don’t mind, I’ll see my visit through to the bitter end, thank you.”     

Jesse smirked at her. “Hey, that’s cool with me. I just thought we’d come to a...what do you call it? Like a stalemate? But if you just want to talk some more then I don’t mind. Even if you’re being kind of a hardass...it’s good to talk to someone.”

There was a note of loneliness in Jesse’s tone, one that Marie knew the sound of only too well. She heard it in her own voice all the time when she was on the phone to Skyler saying that she needed her to apologize because Marie needed her sister back.  

“Don’t you talk to the other inmates?” Marie asked.

“Sometimes. They’re an interesting crowd, but...a lot of them prefer to keep to themselves. Everyone in PC’s got their issues, you know? Like there’s this tranny guy called Mo and he totally looks like a chick. Like...a pretty hot chick too. He wants to go to a ladies prison but they won’t let him because he’s still got his junk. He couldn’t afford the surgery. So he’ll probably have to stay in PC for his entire stretch.”     

“Well, isn’t it better where you are? Or...safer at least?”

Jesse shrugged. “It’s just that they’ve got better work programs in the regular prisons. It’s better doing time when you can keep yourself occupied...have something to focus on. Like there’s some prisons where they’ll even let you do wood working and stuff...” He let out a sigh. “But I’m probably not going to be allowed to do anything like that.”

“Why not?” she asked, “Why wouldn’t you be allowed?”

Jesse rubbed the back of his neck. “Well...they stopped me from knitting.”

Marie raised her eyebrows. “Knitting? You’ve been...knitting?”

“Yeah,” said Jesse, not seeming embarrassed. “There’s like this charity group who were asking inmates to volunteer to knit hats and scarves which they’d send to little kids living in poverty or the third world who don’t have anything. It’s, like...this really positive idea. I was getting good at it too. But they won’t let me do it anymore.” 

“Oh dear,” said Marie, a little sympathy creeping into her voice. The thought of Jesse happily knitting in prison was pitiful enough; the thought of Jesse _wanting_ to knit hats for children in prison but not being allowed to was just plain tragic.      

“Why won’t they let you knit?” she asked tentatively.

Jesse winced and rolled his inhaler against his palm with his thumb.

“It’s since they put me on suicide watch,” he said.

Marie fell silent not sure how to respond to this. The concept of suicide watch had always really bothered her. She had always been of the opinion that if a person really wants to end it all then they probably have their reasons and why should they be prevented from doing so? The government were always complaining about overpopulation and the cost of living yet they don’t even allow people to kill themselves when they really want to. Marie had seen so many of her patients suffering through existences that plainly weren’t worth it. She looked across the table at Jesse with his pale scarred face and his wheezy breathing. She wondered how painful it was for him to just get up and keep on living.

“It’s not like _intense_ suicide watch,” Jesse continued. “It just means I get extra monitoring. Like I get the guards waking me up about ten times a night just to check I'm still breathing. Plus I’m not allowed any sharp objects or things I could choke myself with. And it’s all bullshit because I’m not planning to off myself anyway. I mean, I could’ve just thrown myself off a bridge instead of turning myself in to the cops if I thought being dead was my best option. But they keep telling me I’m impulsive and depressed so they can’t be too careful...”  Jesse sighed. “Dave says it’s just a precaution. He says they want to make sure I stay alive for all the court room drama and the documentary that everyone’s excited to see. They can’t disappoint the public who are waiting for all my Heisenberg stories.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway...Dave thinks they’ll call it all off once the media frenzy dies down. Then maybe I’ll get some craft time again.”

Marie frowned. “Dave? I’m sorry...who is Dave?”

“Oh, Dave’s the main guard they’ve got monitoring me during the day shifts.” Jesse turned to wave at the tall officer standing just beyond the window. The guard gave Jesse a nod and the hint of a smile in return. “So he’s one of the guys they’ve got preventing all my non-existent suicide attempts. Yeah, Dave’s cool. I know we’re not really meant to be buddies with the guards but Dave’s one the best people to talk to in here. When you can get him talking. It took me a while to wear him down. Dave’s a pro, you know.”         

“My therapist is called Dave,” Marie found herself saying.

“Oh, you’re in therapy too? Right on. Therapy’s good, right? I mean...I think that anyone who had that asshole in their life should really have therapy afterwards.”   

Marie squinted. “You have a therapist? In jail?”

“Uh yeah,” Jesse answered. “I have...several of them.”

Marie shook her head at this. Since Hank’s disappearance followed by his confirmed death she had upped her sessions with Dave to three times a week and as wonderful as Dave was he didn’t come cheap. So Marie wasn’t entirely thrilled to hear that this little felon was getting treatment from multiple therapists on the tax payer’s dime. 

“Why do you need _several_ therapists?” she muttered.

Jesse fidgeted, not seeming comfortable with this question. “Well, there’s my NA sponsor. He comes in to lead group sessions once a week but he usually has individual talks with me too. He’s kind of a friend. He’s the guy I went to when I turned myself in. He’s going to be a character witness for me too, like, to say about me being in recovery.”

“Well, drugs shouldn’t really be an issue for you anymore,” said Marie. “If you’re in jail you can’t be an addict because you simply won’t have access to them.”

Jesse spluttered a laugh. “Yeah whatever, lady. It’s the therapists who are pushing the drugs on me now – anti-depressants, anti-anxiety meds and sleeping pills. And if I refuse to take them, then they’re allowed to hold me down and force them on me.”

“Yes, but...but those are the drugs that are good for you,” Marie said haltingly. “Those are the medications you need to get better after everything that’s happened.” 

Marie felt the need to put it this way. She was on anti-depressants too, of course. She’d been taking them for almost a year. The pills were what she needed for now. But it wasn’t as if she was going to be dependant on them for the rest of her life.

“It’s the prison psychologist that wants me on the meds,” Jesse continued. “He’s the one who tells the judge what kind of jail he thinks I should get placed in based on my like...mental health needs or whatever. So the lawyers keep telling me not to argue with him. And then there’s this other headshrinker who the lawyers themselves hired to do tests on me to see if they could go for some kind of insanity defence. Which I don’t even want. I don’t see how it helps. I mean if the prosecution don’t get to lock me up for being a criminal, then they can still lock me up for being nuts. What difference does it make?”

Marie sighed. “Is any of this therapy actually helping you?”

“The talking part helps...” he conceded. “I mean, I had about six months there where I couldn’t talk to anybody...or not anybody I _wanted_ to talk to at least.” Jesse fell silent and then he added sheepishly. “Sometimes the prison chaplain is the best person to talk to. I’m not turning into a Jesus freak or anything like that. I only started going to services because it was something to do and the lawyers said it would look good on my record. But sometimes those sermons make sense of things. I mean, I really should be dead already, right? I’ve come close to it more times than I can count and I’ve done enough to deserve it. So if I’ve survived maybe there’s a reason for it? Like...maybe I have a purpose?”

Marie shook her head. “Please don’t tell me this was all God’s plan. I don’t want to believe in a God that cruel.” She took a calming breath. “You can believe whatever you want. But if I were you I’d just take the pills and do what the doctors told me.”        

“It’s just hard being on drugs when you’ve been fighting to stay sober for so long,” said Jesse. “But I guess maybe I need the pills too. Before they put me on them I wasn’t sleeping too good and I’d get these panic attacks. And these _pains_ , deep in my bones...I have another therapist who helps with that, this massage specialist who comes in once a week.”   

Marie just stared at him. “You’re getting _massages_? Are you serious?”

Jesse swallowed. “Yeah, it’s this guy who works with torture survivors.”

Marie had opened her mouth to rant, but quickly closed it again. She supposed that given the nasty collection of scars on his face she couldn’t claim that torture was something that Jesse had invented or embellished to gain more sympathy. But after all the weeks of seeing Jesse’s bruised face in the newspapers and having some people use the word _torture_ to describe what Hank had done, Marie simply couldn’t feel sorry for Jesse’s endless victimhood.

“Well, whose fault was it that you were tortured?” she snapped.

Jesse’s head jerked up like she had slapped him. “What?”

“Look, I’m sorry...” she continued, unrelenting. “I know this might sound insensitive, but I really feel like you need to take some responsibility here. I’m just saying that if you had those awful Nazi people beating you up and chaining you to a lab to make that special super pure meth, well...that never would have happened if you hadn’t chosen to team up with Walt and learn how to make that evil drug in the first place, now would it?!”

Marie took a shuddering breath. She wouldn’t say these things in court or to the press. She knew she would only get smeared by human rights groups for victim blaming. But she still felt the need to say it, to make this point...even if only in this room.

Jesse held her stare. He took another wheeze on his inhaler.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said when he came up for air. “Those things that happened to me _were_ down to the choices I made. I get that. And yeah, I am trying to take responsibility. I turned myself in and that’s why I’m sitting here cuffed to a table, right?” Jesse narrowed his eyes, his face tensing. “But lady...you don’t get to sit there with your perfect untouched skin and tell me I got what I deserved from those psychos...” Jesse pointed to his scars. “This shit they did to me? They’d do this and they’d do _worse_ to anyone they felt like hurting. They’d do it to mothers and to kids, not just criminal scumbags like me.”

Marie looked away, clamping her arms over her stomach and struggling not to cry. She could see that she had made a mistake trying to unleash the dark side of her pain on Jesse. He had a deeper darkness in him and it hurt even more. Marie had read about that Andrea girl who had been shot on her doorstep. How she had been Jesse’s former girlfriend and the mother of that little boy who Walt had poisoned. She cursed herself for forgetting that Hank and Steve weren’t the only ones who had been murdered by those men.  

“I...I’m sorry,” she began, the words getting stuck in her throat.

“And if you really want to know...” Jesse interrupted, his face reddening and his eyes hard. “They didn’t fuck up my face to make me to cook meth. They had other ways of making me their slave. I got these scars because they wanted to know about that tape...the evidence tape that they snatched out of your house. And lady, if you’d been _at_ your house when they came for it then they would have killed you too. Killed you or worse.”

Marie shuddered and squeezed herself tighter. It’s not as though she hadn’t had recurring nightmares about what might have happened if she’d been in the house when those men had come for the tape. She had seen photos of her overturned furniture and smashed possessions. If she had been there she probably would have been left in messy broken pieces too.  

“But I had the DEA protecting me,” she blurted out. “If _you_ were trying to protect me from those men, well, I...I think that was really stupid of you. It obviously wasn’t going to work. I really didn’t need you trying to withstand torture for my sake...”

“Well, I didn’t withstand it. So don’t worry yourself.”

“But...but you did try,” said Marie, stunned that Jesse had done that much, knowing that she wouldn’t have done the same for him. “I can see that you tried.”

Jesse shrugged. “I didn’t want it to be for nothing...” he said, all the sneer fading out of his voice. “I didn’t want them or Walt to get away with it. So I tried to stay strong and tell them to go fuck themselves just like your husband did. But I couldn’t...I...”

“Hank?” Marie’s heart lurched. “Hank...stayed strong?”                 

“Yeah, he um...are you sure you want to hear about that stuff?”

Marie hadn’t wanted to hear about this. She hadn’t come here to expose her deepest wound and experience its pain all over again. She already knew how her husband had died. There had been two bullets one in the leg and one in the head. The head wound at least suggested that it had been fast. It wasn’t good but it wasn’t as bad as her nightmares filled with axes and machetes. But maybe she still needed to know more than what an autopsy could tell her about her husband’s death. Maybe she needed to know how he had faced it.    

“Yes,” she said to Jesse. “Yes, I want to hear this.”

He nodded. “Well, he wasn’t a coward. He was on the ground with guns all around him and a bullet in his leg. But he didn’t scream and he didn’t beg, which is better than I can say about me. They wanted him to beg or...Walt did at least. Walt expected him to cave and promise to keep his mouth shut...like those Nazi fucks were ever going to go for that. Your husband...he knew what was coming. He knew he was done for. But he stayed true to who he was, you know? He died a good cop doing everything he could to catch the bad guys. He was a smart cop too; I got to give him that. I knew Walt’s money was the evidence he needed, but it was your husband who came up with the plan to get him to lead us straight to it. For a moment there I really thought we’d done it...I thought we’d got him.”

Marie remembered the feeling. Hank’s last call still echoed in her memory.

“I thought we’d done it too,” she murmured.

Jesse rubbed at his temples, his face pained. “Soon as those guys came in their trucks and pulled out their weapons we knew we were dead. I crawled under the fucking car and tried to hide from it. But your husband...he went out guns blazing. They might have killed him, but they didn’t take away who he was. Not like they did with me.”

Marie could taste her own tears on her lips. She didn’t care how fast they were falling now. She needed these tears. These tears were the good medicine.

“Please can you...” She took a breath, hardly daring to ask, “...can you tell people that? Please tell people that my husband died a good cop...and a good man.”

Jesse met her eyes and seemed to see how much this meant to her.

“Yeah, I can do that,” he said. “Like if they ask me in court or when we talk about it for the documentary...I’ll tell them how it was, just like I’ve told you.”

Marie opened her mouth to say thank you but before she could speak a buzzer sounded and the door opened up behind her. Tim stepped into the meeting room.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Schrader,” he said gently. “I can see this has been very emotional for you, but this visit is already running ten minutes over. They need to take Mr Pinkman back now. I’m sorry. I’ve been on the phone, trying to hold them off, but...”

“No, that’s okay,” said Marie. “We’re out of time.”

She quickly glanced back at Jesse, wondering what parting words she should have for him. The guard, Dave, had already stepped back into the visiting room, his keys ready to unlock the cuffs. Marie supposed she wouldn’t see Jesse again before the trial and most likely she wouldn’t speak to him then. And after the trial, well...she would watch the documentary, of course. But it seemed unlikely that they’d meet again in person.

“Goodbye, Mrs Schrader,” said Jesse, seeming to realize the finality of their meeting before she had grasped it herself. “I really am sorry about your husband.”

 “Yes. Thank you,” she said. “Sorry about your, well...everything.”     

Marie had to turn away from him then. She had to get out of the door and out of that room. She needed to walk down several narrow corridors with Tim clutching her shoulders until he found her a soft chair to collapse in. And once Marie was in that chair, she let the tears bleed out of her, all those tears she’d promised herself she wasn’t going to cry again.    

 

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

_Then._

 

Marie rolled over in bed and blinked at her unset alarm clock.  

It was almost 11am. She had overslept. How could she have possibly slept in this late? The last thing she remembered was sitting up in bed, pestering Hank with questions about Jesse Pinkman’s evidence tape and still more questions about this Huell Babineaux who they had placed in a safe house. Hank hadn’t been very forthcoming and Marie had grown increasingly agitated over what he might be hiding. The last thing she remembered was Hank making her a soothing decaf chai latte to settle her nerves and now Marie had a strong suspicion that her sneaky covert husband might have laced her drink with sleeping pills. She would be furious with him if the long rest hadn’t made her feel so much better.     

Marie climbed out of bed and pulled on her robe. She suddenly realized that there were noises coming from outside. She rushed to the window, wrenching back the curtains and...for some strange reason it looked like Hank and the Pinkman kid were digging a large hole in the sand just a few feet away from their patio and barbeque area. 

Marie put on her slippers and hurried through the house. She paused briefly in the kitchen. There was a peculiar smell coming from somewhere in the room, an odour rather like...raw meat. She’d noticed it yesterday and it was getting stronger. She would have to investigate it later. First she had to find out what the hell Hank was up to. 

“Hey baby,” said Hank, leaning on his spade and giving her a mollifying smile. “Sleep well? I didn’t have the heart to wake you when I saw you were...”

“ _Hank_ ,” said Marie, using her stern tone to cut through his forced cheeriness. “I know that you drugged me. We’ll be having words about that later. First could you please explain why you two are digging up our backyard? And where’s Steve?”  

“Gomie’s down at Home Depot,” said Hank. “He’s buying us the right kind of barrel. The exact same type of barrel that Walt used to bury his money in.”

Marie’s jaw dropped open. “Walt has a _barrel_ of money?”

“Walt has _seven_ barrels of money,” he corrected. “But for the purposes of our plan we’re only going to need one barrel of money buried right here in the ground.”

Marie shook her head, her mind still reeling. “Hank, how are you going to fill up... _a barrel_ with money? It’s not as if we have that kind of cash lying around.”

Hank flashed his smug _don’t-worry-I-thought-of-everything_ smirk.

“I forgot to say,” Hank nodded to Jesse, who was standing waist deep in the hole, still bent to the task of digging deeper. “This one comes with a goodie bag. I’ve confiscated enough cash from him for a solid top layer. We can fill the rest up with sand.”

Hank pointed to a duffle bag on the patio table. Marie opened it up and sure enough she found herself staring at several stacks of hundred dollar bills.

“Hank, what is this?” she asked. “What’s the new plan?”

He limped over to join her by the table. “We’re going to take a snap shot of our money barrel mock up and then send it to Walt on Jesse’s phone. Mr Pinkman is then going to call Walt and say that he’s found his buried treasure. He’ll be threatening to rob him of all seven barrels unless Walt gets his ass out to the desert for a showdown.”

“No,” Jesse interrupted, calling over to them from the hole. “No, that asshole knows that I wouldn’t take his filthy money. I’ll tell him I’m burning it instead.”

“Burning it...” Hank nodded. “So we’re sticking with the arson theme, huh? Okay, whatever works...” He turned back to Marie. “Jesse here figures that the money is the best way to get to him. If Walt thinks his money is under threat then he’ll drive right out to the burial spot to try to salvage it. So if this works, he’ll lead us right to our evidence.” 

“ _If_ it works,” Marie echoed, not liking the uncertainty of this plan. "What if it doesn’t work, Hank? What if Walt realizes that it’s a forgery and a trap and he doesn’t come? What then?” She swallowed. “Wouldn’t doing a sting be so much easier?”

Hank glanced back at Jesse who seemed fearful over Marie floating the sting plan again. Hank beckoned Marie to step inside the house, out of Jesse’s earshot. 

“This is a better plan, Marie,” said Hank, as he slid the screen door closed behind him. “Trust me on this, okay? This is the way I _want_ to get Walt...the right way.”   

“It’s just...I think that Pinkman might be paranoid,” said Marie. “Don’t these tweekers have a tendency to get paranoid? He said yesterday that he thinks you’re going to get him killed. I tried to reassure him that you’d never let that happen, but he...”

“Marie, would you stop?” Hank snapped. “The kid’s right, okay.”  

“What?” she said, alarmed by Hank’s harsh tone.

“Walt’s been trying to smoke Jesse out of hiding in any way he can think. He says he wants to talk to him, but...but isn’t it obvious what he’s really planning to do?”   

“Hank, we...we can’t know that for sure,” Marie stammered. “I mean, weren’t you saying just last night that Walt _cares_ about this Pinkman kid. Or...he used to care...”

Hank shrugged. “It used to seem like Walt cared about us too, right?”

She swallowed, weakly nodding her head. She remembered how grateful she had been to Walt and Skyler for offering to pay Hank’s medical bills. How the biggest comfort to Marie through Hank’s recovery was knowing that they had a loving extended family that would do anything to support them. Now those payments for Hank’s physiotherapy felt like nothing so much as hush money, an attempt to trap them in this conspiracy without their knowledge or consent. And then handing them that tape and using that tape like a gun to their heads to force them into silence. No, Marie couldn’t see these as the actions of a man who cared about his family or was even capable of caring for anyone but himself.          

“Marie, the point is...” Hank continued. “I knew I was at least _risking_ Pinkman’s scrawny ass for the chance of getting the dirt I needed on Walt, whether it came from him wearing a wire or catching one of Walt’s murders on tape.” He stared at her, his eyes heavy and bloodshot. “The bastard’s got me sinking to his level. I could have let a witness die just to get me what I wanted...just so I could _win_. Isn’t that the way that Walt plays things?”

“Hank...you’re getting desperate,” she said. “I understand how desperate you feel right now.” She smiled sadly, thinking of her little compulsions towards kidnapping and poisoning during the week. “But you’re nothing like him, Hank. You’re a good cop.”

Hank laughed brokenly. “That’s not what they’re going to say when this is all over, Marie. You know that. But whatever they say about me when the truth about Walt comes out...I just, I...I can’t let him make a monster out of me. I’ve got to stay true to who I am. I’ve got to do this job right...even if it’s the last time that I ever get to do it.”

Marie winced, holding back her tears. The thought of Hank without this job that he loved so damn much, that he loved at least as much as he loved her...it made her sick to think of her brave brilliant husband having to step down or even being fired in disgrace. After all that he had done for the DEA. After all that he would _still_ do for them. 

“This is it, Marie,” said Hank, squeezing her shoulder, “...last roll of the dice. If this doesn’t work then Gomie is going to have to blow the whistle on this whole thing. I can’t blame him for that. It’s his career on the line too. If this doesn’t work, we’ll have to take Pinkman to the Marshalls and see what they can do with his statement alone.”

Earlier in the week Marie would’ve felt so relieved to go to the police and simply tell them everything they knew. She had thought honesty would be the best policy and that the truth would come out somehow. Now she was imagining different scenarios. She was imagining Walt escaping justice due to lack of evidence. She imagined Jesse Pinkman being carted off to a mental institution for telling such crazy lies about his chemistry teacher. She imagined Skyler staying silent through it all, prepared to let Hank come to ruin if it meant her husband getting away with his crimes and keeping their barrels of money.

“The plan has to work, doesn’t it?” Marie said faintly.

“Yeah, it does,” said Hank. “And it will. I swear.”

She held his stare, believing him. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Actually there is. I need you to call Flynn for me. I need for you to ask him, just in casual conversation, where his dad is right now. Hopefully he’ll know the answer. We need Walt’s location so that we can be ready to tail him once we send our photo.”

Marie nodded. She hated the thought of using Flynn as a pawn but if this was what it took to get those kids away from Walt then she could go through with it.

“Okay, I’ll call him,” she said. “I already called Carol, their neighbour. She was the one who told me Walt has got them all staying in a hotel since Pinkman tried to set fire to the house. I hope that Skyler will keep the kids there until all this is over...” 

“Marie, when this is over,” said Hank, “however this thing goes down, you’ll need to get to Skyler and Flynn before the cops do. That kid has a right to hear the truth from his family rather than a bunch of uniforms. We both know that Skyler might not be able to face up to it. If she won’t talk you’ll have to be the strong one. Can...can you do that for me too?”

Marie didn’t nod this time. She wrapped her arms around Hank’s neck and pressed a kiss to his lips, sealing their allegiance. This was going to be a terrible day and it wasn’t going to be the last of their terrible days. But it was what they needed to do to get Walt. They had to do what was right. So she clung onto her husband for dear life.     

Marie stared over Hank’s shoulder into their back yard. Jesse was still standing in the hole they had dug. His head was bowed and his back was stooping as he frantically shovelled out more sand like he wished he were digging Walt’s grave.

 _Don’t we all,_ Marie thought. _Don’t we all._

 

~*~

 

_Now._

 

Marie left the Los Lunas correctional facility a little after 4pm. Tim gave her a ride home as he’d promised. She had spent most of the afternoon sitting in an empty office, struggling to recover her shattered nerves after her meeting with Jesse Pinkman. As was her usual habit, Marie past the lonely hours poring over her memories of Hank, particularly what she could remember of those final days before her husband went missing. The last thing she could recall was stepping out onto the patio to tell Hank that Walt was at the car wash. They had taken their photo by then so Hank had simply drawled _‘Let’s move’_ before he, Steve and Jesse rushed out to the car. Hank had barely stopped to say goodbye to her at the door. He had been so determined to get his man...so sure there would time for reunions later.    

“How are you holding up, Marie?” asked Tim, breaking the silence between them as he drove them on the longer quieter routes back towards her empty home. 

“It’s _Marie_ now, is it?” She forced a little laugh. “At the station you and your officers always call me Mrs Schrader. I guess that’s protocol, right? I imagine that’s how you’re supposed to address the widows of police agents who get killed in the line of duty? ” 

Tim nodded, politely ignoring how she had dodged his question.

“Is there anyone who can come over and be with you this evening?” Tim pried, his face still tensed with concern. “How are things between you and your sister?”

“We, um...we talk on the phone,” said Marie. “It’s still rather difficult for me to be in the same room with her. We got together for a serious meeting about a month ago. Skyler asked me if I’d take custody of Holly if she ends up having to spend time in jail. Flynn too, if he’s not away at college by then. And I told her that I would, of course. That’s the only thing we can really cooperate over right now...doing what’s best for the kids.”

“There’s still a good chance that your sister will receive a suspended sentence,” said Tim, “Especially since Pinkman’s statement corroborates her plea that she was intimidated into laundering her husband’s money and too fearful to turn to the police.”

Marie nodded stiffly because she wasn’t even sure if Skyler evading prison was something that comforted her anymore. She knew very well that Skyler had been more stubborn than afraid when she and Hank had given her the chance to come clean.

“How did you find Pinkman?” asked Tim, seeming to sense that he would have a better chance at making conversation if he wasn’t asking Marie about her family.

Marie still wasn’t sure how to feel about Jesse. She had decided she was still going to say commending things about him in court, no matter what his lawyers said about her husband’s conduct. She felt like she owed Jesse that much for the futile confession that he had given to Hank. So yes, she would let poor Jesse Pinkman have his plea bargain for whatever mercy it might grant him. It was probably what Hank would have wanted.  

“How do _you_ find him?” Marie asked, batting the question back to Tim.  

“Honestly?” he began, “Not a bad kid. He got himself mixed up in a very bad business, but not a bad kid.” He shook his head. “I wish he’d have come to us sooner.”   

“You mean before Walt died? He did _try_ to turn witness against him. Surely that counts for something? Or is Pinkman just going to take the fall for Walt now?”

Marie had noticed this pattern. It seemed like anyone who attempted to go against the great and powerful Heisenberg was doomed to fail and suffer for even trying.

“The judge might want to make an example of him...” said Tim. “But this documentary might do the job for us. Everyone I know in drug enforcement is all in support of that documentary. Get a young white boy from a middle class home on tape, talking about how the drug world ruined his life, put him through all kinds of trauma, led to the untimely deaths of many of his friends and well...that’s one strong deterrent for the DEA to show to other young addicts and dealers just getting into the game. If he’s looking to make amends that’s one way he can do it. It’ll probably earn him more public sympathy too. You can’t say that the kid isn’t likeable. I tell you...we’re going to have teenage girls writing him fan mail.”

Marie sighed. It was Jesse’s likeability that had irritated her the most. It had worn her down, convinced her to give up on her objective and just cut him some slack.

“So you don’t think that the prosecution will come down too hard on him then?” she asked, surprised to find that she actually cared a little about Jesse’s verdict. 

“Well, they don’t have to make him their scapegoat,” said Tim. “Not since that Quayle woman gave up her entire distribution network. They made over thirty arrests thanks to her deathbed confession...high level drug traffickers in New Mexico, Texas, south of the border and all the way to the Czech Republic. A lot of names...a lot of convictions to go around. And the distributers are the ones with the money, of course. The prosecution will find it easier to come down hard on them than the tortured captive they had doing all the work. Human rights groups aren’t going to want a harsh sentence for a victim of modern slavery. Still...they can’t go easy on him either. Not with a murdered kid attached to their meth ring.”      

“But what will happen to him?” Marie persisted, needing to know.

Tim shrugged. “His lawyers have probably pulled enough strings to keep him out of a max unit. They’ll need to place him away from those Aryan Brotherhood gangs too. They still don’t know how far Welker’s prison connections stretch and they won’t want the scandal of another Heisenberg witness being killed in custody.” Tim shook his head, clearly still feeling the weight of all those prison shankings. “I imagine it’ll come down to a compromise. I know the Los Lunas shrink is going to recommend an FMC prison. That’s a federal medical centre, if you’re wondering. Those joints take inmates of all security levels with physical and mental health requirements. Pinkman would get in-house counselling, plus I hear they have decent education programs and recreational activities. I don’t think he’ll like being classified as mentally ill. But it’s the best he can hope for, all things considered.”           

“I suppose so...” Marie said faintly, “...if he needs professional care then that’s probably for the best. He...he kept sucking on this inhaler thing through our meeting. Does he have a few other health problems then? Besides the psychological ones, I mean.” 

“More than a few,” Tim said, wincing. “Mostly respiratory problems. Long term exposure to those toxic fumes hasn’t done him any good. Welker’s gang often didn’t provide him with the right safety gear. His time in their lab has left him with an asthmatic bronchitis condition. When he first turned himself in to us he was in the early stages of pneumonia. He still gets headaches, dizzy spells and joint pains. Higher risk of cancer too...”

Marie closed her eyes, her heart clenching. Hearing about Jesse’s asthma made her think of Skyler again. Or rather about Flynn telling her how worried he was getting over his mother’s chain smoking. How she could go through as many as three packs a day and how he feared he would soon end up with another parent with a lung tumour. Between Skyler and Jesse, Marie had the horrible feeling that Walt had made cancer contagious.   

“So that’s what he meant...” said Marie, remembering Jesse’s words to her. “He told me that he wasn’t sure he’d even live long enough to get out of prison.”  

“I’d say that’s a little pessimistic,” said Tim, “He’s shown himself to be a strong candidate for reform. If he maintains his good behaviour record I don’t see why he’d be denied parole or appeals. Of course, it’ll help if he has a support system for him outside. I know that his parents have been visiting him, but I get the impression there’s still a lot of bad blood there.” He fell silent for a moment then he added. “His brother though...that’s a possibility. He tells me his brother has been sending him letters almost every week and even recommending legal books for him to read. It’s really kept Jesse going. It seems like there’s a bond developing there. It could help if we’re looking towards a future return to society.”         

“Yes, but...isn’t Jesse’s brother just a kid?” asked Marie.

“He’s a kid now,” said Tim with a sidelong glance. “It’s safe to say he won’t be a kid by the time they’re thinking about setting Pinkman’s first parole date.”  

“Oh, I see,” she said. “Yes, well...that makes sense.”

Marie drifted back into her memories. She was remembering the evening after Skyler had told Hank about the stolen baby tiara. Hank had been lecturing Marie about its price tag and warning her that if she stole something over a certain value she could be charged with felony shoplifting rather than a simple misdemeanour. Hank had been saying that felony theft could be punishable by up to eighteen months in prison and Marie had thought that sounded like a long time, but then she knew sentences for drug dealers were far more severe. She had never expected to meet that sort of criminal, let alone discover that she had a meth kingpin in her family. Marie had thought she was the only person in the White and Schrader clan who might disgrace her relatives by being incarcerated for her criminal habits.         

“Marie,” said Tim, breaking into her thoughts. “Marie, you’re home.”

She nodded and numbly climbed out of the passage seat, stepping towards the door of the building which had once been her home. These days the house felt more like a desolate museum or monument to the life that she’d lost. She hated closing the door on herself. She hated the prospect of another night alone in the lingering silence.

She turned on the doorstep and she glanced back at Tim.  

He really didn’t seem to have noticed that it was gone.

“Tim,” she called out before he could drive away. “Tim... _wait_!”

He frowned, stepping out of the car and coming towards her.

“Marie, what’s wrong?” he said, tilting his head at her.

“I’m sorry I...” She sighed and reached into her purse, “...I stole your wallet,” she confessed, taking it out and handing it back to him. “You left your briefcase in the office when you went to make me a coffee. It was just...you made it too easy for me, Tim. You know that I have these problems. I mean honestly...I might even call it entrapment.” 

“It’s okay,” he soothed. “I know that today’s been rough.”

“No, no, no,” she said, cutting him off. “Please don’t start making excuses. Let’s not pretend that today is the only time that I’ve screwed up since...you know. Yes, you know very well, don’t you Tim? Hank was my rock, my stability and I don’t have him anymore so it’s all just spiralling out of control.” Marie took a breath. It felt good to admit to this to someone other than Dave. “So I...I think maybe you should just arrest me right now and be done with it. I don’t think I can stop my little impulses and we know I don’t have my important DEA agent husband to protect me anymore. And well, maybe I want to go to jail and get free therapy and massages. Maybe I’ll meet interesting people and I’ll find God. Or maybe I could just look forward to getting out. It’d be nice to have something to look forward to...”

She stared into Tim’s eyes and his face was still pinched with sympathy for her. His lack of judgement was just so obnoxious.   

“Marie,” he said, “You don’t want to trade places with Jesse Pinkman...believe me.”

“Really?” she snapped. “I feel like I would trade places with _anyone_.”

Marie was thinking about Jesse’s suicide watch now; how the police at least seemed to care whether he lived through each night. But none of them came to the house to check on her, not unless she called them. They didn’t check on the lonely widow woman whose husband had been shot to death because her sister and her brother-in-law had been running a meth empire under their noses. No, she was left alone in this house every night with her grief and her extensive knowledge of poisons. And some of those poisons don’t even cause pain when they kill you. There are some poisons that just gently put you to sleep.

Marie opened her mouth to say all these things to Tim.

Then her phone bleeped. She’d just received a new message.

“Oh, Tim...I’m sorry...please, excuse me,” Marie took her phone from her pocket, checking the caller ID. “Oh...it’s Flynn. He’s checking to see if I’m okay. Oh, he’s a sweetheart...” She skimmed over the message. “He...he says that he wants to come over for dinner tonight. He wants to hear what Pinkman told me about his Uncle Hank...” 

Marie shuddered at the prospect of going through those emotions again. But it meant so much to her that Flynn wanted know the truth. He always said it was the lies that had hurt the most. Flynn deserved to know how his Uncle Hank had died too.

“Hank was like a second father to him, you know,” Marie said aloud to Tim. “My God, the poor kid lost two fathers on the same day and now he has to act like this missionary worker keeping the peace between his mom and his aunt. Poor Flynn...” Marie wiped the tears from her face and tried to pull herself together. “I...I better start getting dinner ready. Flynn will probably be here soon and he’s always hungry after school...” 

Tim blinked at her, confused by her sudden recovery.

“Marie...are you certain that you’re alright?” he asked.

“Not really,” she admitted. “All things considered...not really, Tim. But my nephew is going to need me to stay strong for him. So I’m going to try to stay strong.”

Tim still looked uncertain but when Marie began making frantic shooing motions he stepped away from the porch and returned to his car without a fuss. Once he’d back off her driveway, Marie peered down at her phone and read Flynn’s message again.

_Are you okay, Aunt Marie? You said you’d call after the visit, remember? So now I’m worried. I’m coming over after school. Maybe I could stay for dinner? I know you must be upset. But I loved him too and I still need to talk about this. <3 Flynn.   _

Marie brushed away her tears again. When her fingers stroked over her lips she could feel herself smiling. She had to press at the corners of her mouth to be sure she wasn’t imagining it. She hadn’t thought she was capable of smiling anymore. Then she remembered the way that Jesse had smiled when he had been telling Marie about his little brother...the little brother who Tim said had been sending Jesse letters almost every week.

Thank God for nephews and little brothers.

Marie stepped through the front door, already speed dialling Flynn’s number. When her call went through to voicemail she imagined that he must already be driving over. She took a breath, determined that she would sound calm and even chipper on the phone. She thought of that old _‘hey baby’_ tone that Hank had always used on her.     

“Hey Flynn, I just got your message,” she said while rummaging the fridge. “Please forgive your scatterbrained aunt for not calling you back sooner. It’s sweet of you to worry. I’m sure I’ll feel better after talking to you. You’re my superhero, have I told you that lately? I must say it in front of your friends sometime and embarrass you horribly. That’s what aunts do, I’m afraid. So I’m looking through my fridge and the shelves are a little bare. If all else fails I’ll make us some sandwiches, okay? You know I make the best sandwiches...”

Marie told herself to stop prattling and she hung up the phone. She pressed her hand to her mouth again and her smile was still in its place. Then she let her arms slide down until they were clasped around her own trembling frame. She clutched herself till the trembling ceased. She reminded herself that she had promised to stay strong.  

 _It’s you that’s the rock of this family, babe_ , a voice whispered in her head.

Marie would never forget that voice. She kept on smiling.

“I thought they were called minerals?” she whispered back.  

 

The End.


End file.
